Promises
by Reginald Kastle
Summary: She's beautiful on that day, because of the promise. [dorurio, death mention]


Ship queen reporting for duty

idk I posted this to tumblr a while back it's about time I uploaded it here huh

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She's beautiful.

It's not as if she isn't normally, but no matter who you were or what your position, no one could deny that she was the most beautiful thing to step out of the shadows that day.

_She's just like the sun_, they had said, but he knew different. The way she would speak in a clipped, but formal tone whenever she talked of anything that wasn't of importance to her, her attire and even down to the way he or her brother would always laugh and mention her cold skin whenever they accidentally brushed skin, it all screamed a sub-temperature heart.

[Was it really her cold skin or just the shivers up his spine, he'll never know]

He'd grown so much closer to her brother before he even realized she existed; she was the brains behind his day to day activities, keeping the country in check when Nasch was too busy to. She'd duck in and out, always busy, so she never really had time for her and vice versa.

So when Nasch finally did introduce her as his sister and princess to the throne, nevertheless he was completely shocked.

"_So, why were you hiding the fact that you have younger sister?"_

_Nasch laughs, stretching his arms. "Why do you care? Are you thinking of marrying her?"_

Marriage was never on his mind before and it wasn't something he'd even come close to considering even now, but he couldn't help but find her at least a little fascinating. Whenever Nasch was too busy to attend to his friend's whims – which was often and understandable – he'd taken to watching her. Her day to day activities were much more intense than Nasch's; endless streams of meetings and paperwork and prayers for forgiveness and thanks for her prosperity, Durbe knows it's no wonder that she sleeps so heavily.

He finds her today in the library, huddled over streams of letters of god-knows-what, her mind so pre-occupied that she doesn't notice him come in or sit down across from her. It's only when he sighs, accidentally bumping his ankle on the chair that she looks up and notices him.

"See something you like?" she asks, raising an eyebrow but refusing to take her eyes from her project in front of her. Durbe shrugs, and she rolls her eyes – a signature move between the two siblings, he's noted – turning her attention back to the ever piling work in front of her. "I don't really have time to entertain you, Durbe, I'm sorry."

He's taken aback by her genuinely apologetic nature, but he's far too stubborn for that. "Let me help you."

She looks up from the letter she's writing, dropping her pen to the table. "What?"

"Let me help you. Give me of some use while I'm here, and lessen some of that burden from yourself." He repeats, holding his hand out to take over some of her workload.

She shakes her head. "You don't even know what I'm doing." He goes to speak, to say it doesn't matter, but she interrupts him. "I know it doesn't matter to you, but these all need to be handwritten and signed by either Nasch or myself." She pauses, biting her lip as her eyes dart to the envelopes beside her.

He notices as well, and before she can swipe them away, they're in his hands. "I can at least pack for you, that's not something that needs to be done by the High Priestess, am I wrong?"

Merag grimaces, but sighs and gives in. "You're a guest in our kingdom, I can't put you to work."

"Nonsense." Durbe dismisses, dropping back into the seat. "It's nothing. What else am I to do when the two of you are obviously so worked out? Go see the luxuries of your kingdom? Without friends like Nasch, or even yourself?"

Merag looks up from the letter suddenly. "You consider me a friend?"

Durbe furrows his eyebrows in confusion. "You thought otherwise?"

Merag shrugs, turning back to her work. "Most who consider themselves to be affiliated with my brother know that it's not normally wise to affiliate with me." She laughs. "But then again, Nasch would probably be much happier with you by my side than any other individual here, it would give you an excuse to stick around."

"Nasch wants us to marry?" Durbe replies, his confusion growing.

Merag laughs, finishing the first letter and handing it to him, instructing him on how to fold the letter and seal the envelope. "Well, as far as my brother's wishes, I don't doubt his favourite outcome would be me never being married off, but I would be to assume that if I _had_ to, he'd prefer you. Though, by the look on your face, that's not such a good thing. Do I intimidate you, Durbe?"

"Do you consider yourself an intimidating person, lady Merag?" he replies, leaning forward. Definitely an interesting person, indeed.

A smile plays on her lips as she makes her way through the next letter. "Well, I have been told by my brother that I do give off an intimidating stance, but that might be wasted on someone who's faced such extremities as you have." She chuckles despite herself. "Nevertheless, I'm not proposing to you or anything, so there's no need for alarm. It was simply an observation, is all." She hands him the next letter with a smile. "After all, where on earth would I have time for something such as keeping another man happy?"

Durbe raises an eyebrow. "What do you mean by that?"

Merag sighs. "well, I've spent such a long time looking after my brother's affairs that he cannot keep up with and being his bringer of advice when he needs critical decisions made – though, I may have a short cheating mechanism-" she points at her head with a laugh. "It would be almost impossible for me to think of looking after anyone else. We're kind of similar in a way, did you know?" she objects, handing him another letter. "It's almost as if we're his own pieces of armor, you know? You're the shield that defends my brother from any attacks, and I'm almost a sword, playing the pieces to keep his attacks in place."

Durbe thinks the prospect over, giving a tiny smile as he realizes just how true her words are, but deciding to play with her – for the sake of getting to know her better, he tells himself. "Who knew you still had all this time to think about worlds of make believe?" he quips, and she rolls her eyes.

"It's a dumb idea, I know. I'm just very good at observing similarities, as I'm sure you're very well aware." She pauses, placing her pen down and staring into the soft, grey eyes of the man facing her. "It's very encouraging to know that if something were to happen to me. Even something as _atrocious_ as _marriage_" she pauses to laugh only for a second before her eyes darken, a serious atmosphere hugging her. "If something were to happen to me, Nasch would still be okay, because you're here. That's all I need. Make a promise to me, Durbe?"

Durbe nods, and she sighs with relief. "What is it that you need, my lady?"

Merag rolls her eyes at the customary gesture. "Promise me that you will continue defending Nasch if something to happen to me. Promise me that, and I'll continue to be able to sleep at night. Can you do that, Durbe?"

She holds her hand out, and he leans over, taking it in his hands and kissing the palm softly. "It's a promise that is only too easy to make, lady Merag. I promise to defend your brother with my life, should the need arise."

She takes her hand from his, resting it on the table as he chuckles to himself. "What's so funny?" she asks, missing the apparent hilarity in the serious situation.

"Oh, it's nothing." He insists. "It's just that you're as cold-blooded as ever."

[She's beautiful that day because of the promise; because she knows that he'll be okay, he'll be safe. She can _focus_ and _breathe_, her lines falling from her lips as she accepts what she needs to do; a sword dishes out hits over and over until she can't take any more.]

[She may not have been able to take any more, but there's not really any _need_ for her to anyway; after all, he's more than competent in looking after himself.]

[She sees Durbe as she falls, and she's able to close her eyes and relax, knowing that in the end, at least someone was going to make it out of this happy.]

[A heart of ice is still one that beats, and still one capable of compassion, after all.]


End file.
